They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite.
― Cassandra Clare
On a Thursday morning earlier this year, I woke wanting to speak to my mother. The urge was so overwhelming I ended up in tears. Because as much as I feel like I can talk to her in spirit it is not the same. It will never be the same. View Post
Wannabe Kit Kat
A ‘Tiki time-out’ is the distant Trini cousin to a ‘Kit Kat break’ and I was in need of a serious time out. I needed some time to get a hold of myself, hence, the silence on the blog. May is a tough time for me, my mother’s birthday into Mother’s Day is always a sharp reminder that May 2010 was the last happy times we shared. Facing the agony of this loss is hard and I’m broken.
My brother says I’m a verb. I’m a doer. And gosh I like being in control of everything. Yeah some people say it makes me pretty overbearing and others say bossy but having control or rather the illusion of control keeps me grounded. I can breathe easier.
So imagine this thing happens to me…my family and my whole life is changed forever, something I have no control over. Then the loss, the sadness, the dull constant ache that does not go away, no matter how hard I may be laughing in any given moment is always lurking on the edge of everything…just waiting to swallow me up.
To the person who said, grief comes in waves. I say BULLeffingSHIT.
This is not a wave. I’m caught up in a tsunami and I have no control.
Everything is bittersweet. There are significant milestones happening in our lives and while I am happy in the moment…there is always a fuzzy dreamlike quality to that emotion.
Because I should put on my big girl panties and be ‘normal’ by now right? I don’t want to keep pushing my loss in everyone’s face, or feel ashamed that there is a lump in my throat and I have to fight back tears if I allow myself to think too long about anything concerning my mother. I don’t want to keep harping on it or feel like I’m boring everyone with my grief process. I don’t want to feel judged or hear about what might be the ‘best’ way to deal with this. THIS IS NOT NORMAL! What is too much or too little when it comes to grief and letting go? And, honestly, I don’t know if the people around me can tolerate me when I’m like this…because life goes on…for everybody else.
So I checked out for a bit. I needed to own and honor what I was feeling. And guess what? The sadness swallowed me up. I was unable to wish my own friends a ‘happy mother’s day’. I was so caught up in me. I am an orphan now you know.
I thought about my mother and my experiences with her. I remember when she talked about the first moment she felt like a mummy. It was after she got home from the hospital and the ‘welcome home’ party had gone to their homes. It was just the two of us. She said she looked at me and she knew that she would never be the same. I was a C-Sec baby so I never got the “I was in labor for hours and hours talk’. In fact my mother never used her labor as a guilt trip on any of us.
My mum had four kids. There was a baby before me but he died at birth. She called him Elliot and never forgot him. We three though, she spoiled. She gave me the freedom to make my own mistakes whether she approved of my actions or not. She gave me her undivided attention and unconditional love. I watched her face her cancer and fight for her life. And when the time came, I watched her say her goodbyes with grace. I, on the other hand, I don’t know how to let go…yet.
There are no goodbyes for us. Wherever you are, you will always be in my heart. – Gandhi
I’m making my peace with her not being here. Slowly.
And as I count the blessings of the time and experiences I had with my mother, I consider what is left and I am grateful. I can say now to all those badass women who embrace motherhood, “Hat’s off to you. Happy Belated Mother’s Day.”